The Plural of Moose
by FlutterMouse
Summary: "As Mello stood alone under the meagre shelter of a wind-battered awning, it was this question which came back to him. Why had he continued talking to Matt?" When Mello receives a text message from a wrong number, he doesn't expect anything to come from it. Least of all, a new friend. Just a little humour fic, Mello x Matt. Rated for language, just to be on the safe side.
1. The Plural Of Moose

**I wrote this fanfic on a whim, really (considering I'm working on another one right now) - I just thought it sounded like a fun idea, and what's the point of writing if not having fun? Anyway, yes, this was prompted by the idea of a wrong number AU, which sounded like it'd be interesting. I actually got so into it, it took barely any time at all! :3 No warnings apply, except maybe some bad language. **

**I know the first half of this is written in a text-script format, which isn't allowed on this site, but I figured that by that rule, they meant that you can't have a story **_**entirely **_**written in that format, where this one is only partially, so hopefully it shouldn't raise any red flags. (There is some prose further down, so yeah, I don't see why it would be problematic.) I hope you like this little one-shot, it was really fun to write!**

* * *

**XXX:** Hi Gary, sorry 4 short notice but I can't come in 2day. There's a moose in my driveway, I'm stuck in the house. Soz.

**YYY: **I'm not Gary.

**XXX: **Sorry, wrong number! Thanx.

**YYY: **Can I see the moose?

**XXX: **Sure.

JPG file, image of moose in yard

**YYY: **Now, that's a fucking moose.

**XXX: **You're welcome.

**YYY: **Have you texted Gary yet?

**XXX: **Yeh, I typed last 2 numbers wrong first time. My bad.

**YYY: **I forgive you. I'm ill, moose made me laugh.

**XXX: **You're ill? Hope u get better.

**YYY: **Thanks, stranger. I hope so too.

**XXX: **Sorry. Name's Matt. Have u taken paracetamol?

**YYY: **Hi, Matt. I took 2, they didn't help. Sore throat.

**Matt: **U should try hot lemon 4 that.

**YYY: **How do you make that?

**Matt: **Lemon juice, water, honey, orange juice if u want. Heat it up &amp; drink it.

**YYY: **Thank you, I'll try it later.

**Matt: **What do I get in return?

**YYY: **What?

**Matt: **I gave u a moose and a recipe. What do I get?

**YYY: **You're not asking for nudes?

**Matt: **Haha, no - I don't know who u r, u could be old. XD

**YYY: **Then what?

**Matt: **Uhh... ur name at least?

**YYY: **It's Mello.

**Matt: **That's unusual. Never met a Mello.

**Mello: **Me neither.

**Matt: **Nice 2 meet u, Mello.

**Mello: **Is there anything else you want?

**Matt: **Sorry, I'm not disturbing u, am I?

**Mello: **No, but you said you wanted something. And my name isn't enough.

**Matt: **Who says?

**Mello: **It's just not - I have your name, so I still owe you.

**Matt: **U kno I wasn't serious?

**Mello: **Yeah, but now you've brought it up.

**Matt: **Fine. Tell me the plural of moose.

**Mello: **...moose?

**Matt: **Wrong. It's meese.

**Mello: **Don't be ridiculous.

**Matt: **It is! Meese.

**Mello: **The plural of moose is not meese.

**Matt: **The plural of moose is meese.

**Mello: **It is not fucking meese.

**Matt: **It is fucking meese! MEESE. MEESE.

**Mello: **You're an idiot.

**Matt: **But ur still talking 2 me ;)

**Mello: **For fuck's sake.

**Matt: **What?

**Mello: **You're using the ;) already? What if I'm like 50.

**Matt: **I could be like 50.

**Mello: **But you're not, because 50+ know that the plural of moose isn't fucking meese.

**Matt: **50+ don't swear that much.

**Mello: **You sure about that?

**Matt: **Okay, u win, ur obviously 50. But the plural of moose is still meese.

**Mello: **Fuck off, it's moose.

**Matt: **Fuck off, it's meese.

**Mello: **Out of interest, how old are you?

**Matt: **Changing the subject! Aha!

**Mello: **Why are we even having this argument? You're clearly stupid.

**Matt: **Ur just a sore loser.

**Mello: **Shut up! Answer my question.

**Matt: **A bit demanding, aren't we?

**Mello: **Why am I even still talking to you?

**Matt: **Hold up, don't go! I'm stuck in my house with a moose!

**Mello: **The moose isn't in your house.

**Matt: **No, but it could break the window or something

**Mello: **Sure.

**Matt: **U saw the size of that thing.

**Mello: **Are you scared?

**Matt: **I'm allowed.

**Mello: **Aww, poor Mattie. No wonder you can't go to work.

**Matt: **Don't Mattie me, I'm 20!

**Mello: **Fuck off, you're like 12.

**Matt: **What?!

**Mello: **You think the plural of moose is meese. You're 12.

**Matt: **I have a job. My employer's name is Gary.

**Mello: **Touché.

**Matt: **I'm just immature for my age, lol.

**Mello: **No kidding. I'm 20 too.

**Matt: **No way, really? Lol, that's cool XD

**Matt: **Hey, r u there?

**Matt: **Mello?

**Mello: **I'm making hot lemon.

**Matt: **Oh! Is it working?

**Mello: **I don't know, I haven't finished making it yet.

**Matt: **It's really good.

**Mello: **I'll take your word.

**Matt: **But not about meese?

**Mello: **FUCK OFF. THEY ARE NOT MEESE.

**Matt: **Mooses?

**Mello: **God damn it. God damn it, fuck, you're annoying.

**Matt: **Then why r u still talking 2 me?

* * *

Why indeed.

As Mello stood alone under the meagre shelter of a wind-battered awning, it was this question which came back to him. Why had he continued talking to Matt? (And underneath that, the million-dollar question - why was he still here?)

His initial answer had been boredom, a lack of better things to do - and of course, the hot lemon had played a big role. Once he'd discovered its effectiveness, he realised that despite his aggravating grammar, Matt did have his uses. Although Mello was intelligent on his own, there were skills he lacked, self-care being one of them.

Yet, even after his immune system had finally cracked down on his sickness, the texts continued. Nothing deep or personal, though it wasn't exactly small talk either - just random little tangents, playful banter interspersed with the odd comment about "moose" or "meese." His text-conversations with Matt had flowed like they'd known each other for years, and he'd liked that about him. As it was, being a fairly aloof and prideful young adult, few people found him likeable enough to stick around and make friends.

So here he was.

Twelve fifteen, on a drizzly Wednesday, wrapped up in a black felt coat as he waited under the awning. Their agreed meeting time had been twelve on the dot, but then, he hadn't expected Matt to be the punctual sort. A small smile warmed his cheeks against the cold as he wondered to himself whether or not the guy had been held up by a moose.

He hoped he hadn't. Hoped he had.

The thing was, even though they had been communicating near-solidly for several months, Mello felt nervous about meeting Matt. He knew his name, his age, a little about his home life; he'd spoken to him enough to have gauged his personality more-or-less accurately. And yet... what if he turned out to be different? What if it was awkward? What if he messed things up?

Before he could think about anything else, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and fished about for it. His fingers were cold; it took a few tries before he was able to unlock the screen.

**Matt: **Hey, Mel - I'm here!

Mello cast about, but he couldn't see Matt anywhere. He'd only been given a vague description, and yet, he'd thought it would be easier. According to Matt, his hair was bright fucking red.

** Mello: **Where? I can't see you.

** Matt: **By the lamppost. The one by the sign.

**Mello: **Helpful.

Mello was beginning to feel awkward, standing on his own under the awning. A few people had given him strange looks already, but these looks grew only stranger as it became apparent that he was casting about. _God damn it, Matt! _he cursed inside his head. _Couldn't you just pop up somewhere and make it easy?_

**Matt: **Hey, is that u by the awning?

Mello jumped when he felt the phone vibrate in his hands. He glanced around, but he still couldn't see anyone who even loosely resembled Matt's description. He gulped. It felt wrong somehow, knowing someone could see him, and yet he couldn't see them.

**Mello: **Blond hair? Black coat?

** Matt: **YES! SCORE!

At this, Mello couldn't help but smile, though his chest felt tight like a gas cylinder; full of pressure and nerves. He continued to glance around nervously, but the street remained unyielding; grey pavement, grey walls, grey storefronts, few people. He was considering sending an agitated text to Matt, asking him to come out of hiding, when he felt the hands on his shoulders.

"Hi, Mello."

Mello stiffened. He liked that voice. It was timid, but playful, and it matched Matt's texts perfectly, albeit unexpectedly well.

"Hi, Matt."

He turned. Behind him stood an attractive young man, maybe slightly shorter than he was, with a shock of red hair held back from his face by a pair of goggles. His eyes were really pretty; Mello almost blushed.

Matt didn't look far from blushing either. This was every bit as awkward as predicted. Still, he managed to stutter out the words, "L-Looks like I didn't get held up by any meese."

Mello's smile instantly dropped, and the awkwardness dropped with it. He placed his hands on Matt's shoulders like he'd done it before, leaned in with a glare like ice and gritted out the words, "It's - not - fucking - _meese._"

* * *

**Well, there you go! This was actually so much fun. I only came up with the idea this morning, it really was out of the blue - I just thought it would be entertaining. XD Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this and please review; your feedback means a lot. Have a nice day!**


	2. Twilight Princess

**Hello again!**

** Here you have a very unplanned, spur-of-the-moment follow-up to what I initially thought was a one-shot, which goes into some of the conversations these guys had in the months before their meeting face-to-face. I wrote this on a whim this afternoon (my day off from revision, which is going fine, thanks) and I haven't really checked through it much, so it's fresh out of my head.**

** What can I say? My hand slipped.**

* * *

**Matt: **Babe

**Mello: **You again?

**Matt: **Couldn't keep myself away ;)

**Mello: **Damn it, what do you want?

**Matt: **U know, the usual

**Matt: **Some advice?

Mello sighed and closed the lid of his laptop, deciding that the stranger on the other end of his phone wasn't going away any time soon. It'd been a week since their first accidental conversation, and since then, their conversations had continued. Mello had found himself automatically reaching for the phone when he was bored, and he assumed Matt must do the same, given the messages popping up on his screen at all hours of the day.

Rarely were their conversations anything he couldn't get away from, but this was the kind of question which warranted an answer. He glanced down at the shut laptop in his lap, and thought about the essay he'd finished an hour before. He'd been considering going over it again to check for typos, but supposed it could wait. His eyes were getting tired of 12pt Times New Roman anyhow.

**Mello: **What's the deal?

**Matt: **This may come as a shock to you

**Mello: **...

**Matt: **I've got a date.

**Mello: **Seriously?

**Matt: **Yeah... I'm not sure how it happened.

**Mello: **And what?

**Matt: **Idk what to wear.

**Mello: **...You want me to help you decide.

**Matt: **Yep! ^/^

**Mello: **What are your options?

**Matt: **Well, I'm going to a restaurant.

**Mello: **Fancy?

**Matt: **Sorta. In-between fancy and not.

**Mello: **OK.

**Matt: **I have 2 shirts I'm considering.

**Mello: **Show me?

**JPG IMAGE, 1 stripy black-and-white shirt**

**JPG IMAGE, 1 stripy black-and-red shirt**

**Matt: **This is what I have 2 choose between.

Mello stared at the small images on his screen and began chewing his lip. Neither of them were ugly shirts. But then, that wasn't exactly helpful fashion advice.

**Mello: **What kind of restaurant is it?

**Matt: **I told u! Half-fancy

**Mello: **No, what kind of food?

**Matt: **Italian, why?

**Mello: **You could stain the white one.

**Matt: **OH! Right. Sure.

**Mello: **That help?

**Matt: **Yup! Red it is.

**Mello: **You're welcome. Have fun!

It was close to midnight when Matt texted him again. He'd been tossing and turning in bed, caught between thoughts of his essay, the room temperature (which was obscenely high, despite the central heating being switched off)and the fact that he knew of a stranger named Matt, out there somewhere on a date.

He wished he was more sociable, because when he tried, he was usually pretty good. It was just... he never managed to be nice to people, genuinely. His act was good, but no-one had ever given him the urge to be kind to them, from the bottom of his heart. He hoped Matt was having a good time, but at the same time, he didn't really want to know. If even dorks who made dumb jokes about grammar had more luck with dating than he did, then... _ugh._

**Matt: **Mel?

Mello started when he heard his phone vibrate on the dresser, then relaxed. He reached out to it, leaning off the edge of his bed in the dark, and felt a weight lift off of his chest as he did so. He'd been in need of a good distraction, and here it was.

**Mello: **What's up?

**Matt: **I'm a fucking moron

Mello couldn't help it. He smirked.

**Mello: **Bad date?

**Matt: **Awful date. Horrible date.

**Mello: **What happened?

**Matt: **Nothing

**Mello: **What?

**Matt: **Nothing happened!

**Mello: **I don't understand

**Matt: **Do u think I'm a loser?

**Mello: **Yes

**Matt: **Awesome. That explains it

**Mello: **Matt, are you OK?

**Matt: **No.

Mello's smirk dropped. He hadn't wanted Matt's date to go badly. Maybe in a selfish, petty way he had, but not really.

**Mello: **Tell me what happened.

**Matt: **She never showed.

**Mello: **Oh.

**Matt: **She never showed, &amp; I waited in the rain for an hour because I'm a fucking idiot. I fucking

**Matt: **asked for shirt advice too. I'm such a loser

**Mello: **Matt, shut up

**Matt: **What?

Mello shifted uncomfortably in his bed. This wasn't the kind of conversation you had with a stranger; it was the sort of question you had with a best friend.

**Mello: **You're not a loser. I didn't mean that.

**Matt: **Yes, u did.

**Mello: **Not seriously.

**Matt: **Don't

**Mello: **Really, you're not that bad. You make dumb jokes and I mock you for it but you're actually really nice.

**Mello: **You've made me smile more this week than anyone I actually know.

**Matt: **Are u kidding?

**Mello: **Not this time.

**Matt: **Thanks, Mel.

**Mello: **No problem. Don't worry about her now.

**Matt: **Are my jokes really that bad?

**Mello: **What did I just say

**Matt: **I thought they were funny

**Mello: **They're not

**Matt: **Then why'd u smile them?

**Mello: **Because they're endearing? I don't know

**Matt: **Mello.

**Mello: **Yeah?

**Matt: **Thanks.

Mello sighed heavily and rolled onto his back, holding the phone above his face. He wondered what Matt looked like. What his voice was like. Where he lived, whether or not they were in the same town. There were a lot of things he wanted to know, but very few things he could ask. Maybe it was better that way.

**Mello: **Are you going to let me sleep tonight?

**Matt: **Wait, it's late?

**Mello: **It's like 1am or something

**Matt: **Oh. I forgot most people have sleep cycles

**Mello: **What are you doing?

**Matt: **Video games

**Mello: **Ew.

**Matt: **What? They're fun

**Mello: **Sure they are.

**Matt: **Have u played Twilight Princess?

**Mello: **What no that sounds awful

**Matt: **It's not, it's LoZ &amp; it's great

**Mello: **That's that one with the green guy in Hyrule, right?

**Matt: **That's the one.

**Mello: **I'll leave you to it. I'm tired.

**Matt: **Goodnight, &amp; thanks again. Sorry 4 waking u up

**Mello: **Night, Matt.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this unplanned little extra; I know I've said before that I like to leave the Plural of Moose a mystery for purposes of the reader's imagination, but if there's one thing I've learned that I enjoy more than a cute mystery, it's something cute which isn't a mystery.**

** So, I was taking a break and I decided, what the heck. I wanted to write more Matt-Mello wrong-number AU. I'm still listing this story as complete, given that it doesn't really have a plotline so it cannot be incomplete, but who knows? One day I may be tempted to add more. I hope you enjoy, and please review. ^^**


	3. Repetitive Strain Injury

**Lo and behold, it's another update! I'm finding that it's quite easy to update this story, as the chapters don't need much editing and they don't take very long to get done. (I actually wrote this one while breaking from my physics revision, so yeah.)**

** A slightly darker, sadder chapter this time, from Matt's angle just to switch things up. I thought it'd be interesting to explore both of their lives, but this chapter turned out surprisingly more emotional than I thought it was going to. Still, it was fun to write, and this story is going to remain as light-hearted as I can make it, so don't worry!**

** I hope you enjoy, thanks to those who have reviewed so far, it really helps.**

* * *

**Matt: **Boop

**Mello: **Matt, it is 2:37 in the morning.

**Matt: **...Boop

**Mello: **Matt. What.

**Matt: **Nothing.

Several things, actually, but Matt supposed they could wait until what Mello would consider a 'reasonable' time in the morning.

When he'd sent his first message of the night to Mello - approximately five hours after Mello had notified him that he would be working on his assignment that night and could he please have some peace and quiet - he'd forgotten that it was late. Yet again, he'd been awake well into the night playing video games, and the concept known to others as _time _had merely eluded him. He hadn't known how to start a conversation with Mello, despite already having done so numerous times in the last fortnight... _boop _had seemed innocent enough. Playful and, maybe, funny.

He'd forgotten that Mello would be asleep. Forgotten that Mello might get annoyed with him.

So what he'd typed as _nothing _was actually a grand sum of somethings, things he wanted to say to Mello, talk about with Mello, but couldn't for fear of getting on his nerves; for fear of being rejected, again, as always. For fear that Mello would turn into another Linda, the beautiful Linda he'd been scrounging up the courage to ask on a date for weeks, only for it to end in a slow and drawn-out flatline of a date. An accumulation of somethings swelling up inside his head; things that he kept _nearly _saying, _nearly_ asking, but didn't, because there was never time.

Things like, "I'm lonely." "I just completed the game I've been obsessing over for ages and now I don't have anything to do." "What do you do when you aren't studying?" "Am I really getting on your nerves?" "What am I to you?" "We've been texting for two weeks and you haven't stopped replying yet." "Are we friends?" "Do you want to meet me?" "I really like you, Mello."

_BZZZZZ! _

Matt started slightly upon hearing his phone vibrate against the wood of the table. He'd forgotten that he'd set it to vibrate. Risking a nervous glance at his alarm - 2:43, glowing poison-green at him through the darkness - he reached for the phone, realising as he did so that his hand was slightly shaky. Shaky? Must be the Mountain Dew, combined with the flashing lights of the game as it drew towards a close. Couldn't be nerves. Couldn't be. This was a stranger, a _stranger_. Not a friend, not a friend. Yet.

**Mello: **Congratulations! I am officially wide awake.

**Matt: **I'm sorry.

There it was again. The stab of fear that always came however hard he fought it. He had never been a social creature; it was why he spent so much time indoors, working on his programming and his games. He'd only met Linda by chance, since she worked at the store where he would get his cigarettes; other than her, his social interactions that week had been scandalously low. He'd gotten used to being friendless, but it still hurt when he came so painfully close. Still hurt when there was so much promise, dangling there right in front of his eyes.

Nobody laughed at his dorky sense of humour. Mello had told him it was endearing.

Nobody replied to his stupid small-hours texts. Mello had.

Nobody liked him, really. But he found solace in the thought that out there somewhere, a stranger was reading over the words which had just appeared on his screen, and he was maybe typing something back. Somewhere, in the great desert of the world where he would always be alone, there was a stranger who humoured his annoying chatter, to the extent where Matt began to wonder whether he was actually humouring him or he genuinely enjoyed his company.

It wasn't likely, but he remained hopeful for Mello.

**Mello: **No problem. I can lie in tomorrow.

**Matt: **Really?

**Mello: **Yes, why?

**Matt: **I thought u had 2 study?

**Mello: **I'm on sick leave. 3 weeks.

**Matt: **U ok?

**Mello: **Fine. Dr signed me off, RSI and migraines.

**Matt: **You have RSI?

**Mello: **Too much writing.

**Matt: **SNAP!

**Mello: **When do you write things?

**Matt: **I don't, I type. And thumb.

**Mello: **What?

**Matt: **My thumbs? From video games?

**Mello: **Oh, right. It's that bad?

**Matt: **Well, I don't exactly have a social life

**Mello: **I thought not.

Matt tensed slightly when that message came through. Lined up neatly alongside the other text balloons on his screen, this one was as heavy as a zeppelin. It felt almost like a jab to the gut.

**Mello: **But then, there was that date

Matt grimaced. He wanted to reply with a hefty counterargument - something cocky, something to make him look like the social butterfly he wasn't - but instead, he felt himself shrink back slightly in his gaming chair, suddenly very aware of all of the packets of food which had accumulated on his floor and now crunched under the shift in weight.

He threw the phone across his room.

_**BZZZZZ! BZZZZZZ! **_

It was in his bed now. His bed, the bed he'd meant to change that morning, but had decided could wait until tomorrow while he got cracking on his latest programming job. The bed that smelled musty, the bed that had accumulated probably enough crumbs to build a sandwich. Wearily, Matt lumbered up out of his chair and picked his way over to it. Still buzzing. Mello hadn't abandoned him yet.

**Mello: **Are you still there?

**Mello: **Don't wake me up at half 2 and then leave me!

**Matt: **Sorry. I'm sorry.

**Mello: **Matt, what's the deal?

What was the deal, Matt wondered. What was the deal.

**Matt: **Sorry, Mel, I'm just having a weird night

**Mello: **I can tell. What's wrong?

**Matt: **Idk. I just feel kind of like I suck.

**Mello: **What? Why?

**Matt: **Idk, never mind. Sorry for waking you up.

**Mello: **For fuck's sake!

**Matt: **?

**Mello: **Pull yourself together, will you? It's like whenever

I text you,

**Mello: **you're either making lame puns or having an existential crisis. Just chill!

**Matt: **Sorry.

**Mello: **Stop apologising!

Now, Matt felt confused. Half-buried under his duvet - which felt crusty and dirty and by no means comfortable - he gripped the phone tighter in his hands. He didn't know what the deal was tonight; it was like he'd just walked in on himself, like he'd turned his back for one second and suddenly everything was a mess.

**Mello: **Here's what you're going to do.

Matt jumped at the sudden new message; he hadn't been expecting Mello to text him without first getting a reply.

**Matt: **?

**Mello: **You're going to shower.

**Matt: **But it's late!

**Mello: **I don't care. Shower. Go.

**Matt: **Mel, why?

**Mello: **Because I'm guessing that whoever you are, you're a mess and you'll feel better if you're clean.

Matt shifted uncomfortably in his nest. That was true. Maybe Mello really cared, after all, if he was giving him advice like this.

**Matt: **Then what?

**Mello: **You're going to sort out anything else that's bugging you. Right now. Tonight.

**Matt: **Like what?

**Mello: **I don't know! Is your floor messy? Are your gaming wires tangled? Anything. Sort it out!

Matt glanced about his room - his messy hovel of a room, the room he'd been neglecting for far too long - and exhaled suddenly, feeling his chest swell with relief. Mello was right. His floor was littered with empty soda bottles, crisp packets and other crud. He could clean that up. His bed _definitely _needed to be dealt with.

It wasn't a solution to his biggest problem, of course; it didn't fix the reason things had gotten like this. Even after he'd straightened out his room and felt a little cleaner, he'd still be lonely. But maybe, in a clean and comfortable environment, lonely wouldn't feel so bad.

**Matt: **Thanks, Mello. And sorry again.

**Mello: **No problem. Text me when you're done.

**Matt: **U mean u aren't fed up w/ me yet?

**Mello: **If I was, your number would be blocked.

**Matt: **Wow...

**Mello: **What?

**Matt: **Most people get sick of me really fast

**Mello: **Hey, me too. I'm a bitch. But stranger things have happened.

**Matt: **I guess so. I'm gonna go shower now.

**Mello: **Have fun.

**Matt: **Thanks again. Night.

* * *

**Well, that's all for now! As usual, I will be listing this story as complete, as I don't feel like such a thing can be incomplete given its lack of real plot. That said, I forecast a number of updates for this fic in the future, so don't be put off! **

** I hope you enjoyed, and please review if you can - I am a firm believer that storytelling is a collaboration between the teller and the listeners, and any feedback you have is massively useful.**

** On a side note, exam revision does take time away from my writing, but I have resumed drafting the next chapter of Angel From The Moon. (If you haven't already read that and you're interested in one of my more structured fanfics, I'd go take a look. Same fandom, different kind of story.) I doubt it'll be up for a good while yet, but it hasn't been abandoned, don't worry.**


	4. Excessive Ice-Cream Consumption

**Boom! 'Nother update. Really, I am on a roll with these things... but it's not exactly a massive feat. They're pretty easy to write, not very time-consuming, etc. (in fact, I've already started on the next one.)**

** This time, Mello starts the conversation, as Matt somehow managed to start all the others and I thought the friendship seemed a bit one-sided. This chapter should hopefully come across much more cheerful and sweet than the last one, which was essentially a doom-and-gloom fest given the feel I'm trying to give this story. Anyhow, I won't keep babbling, I'll save that for the end.**

** Enjoy!**

* * *

**Mello: **Matt? Are you around?

**Matt: **10mins, Mel. Shift's nearly over.

**Mello: **Okay, I'll wait.

It occurred to Mello, as he began to neaten out the stacks of paper building up on his desk, that he didn't know where Matt worked. Or anything about him, really.

_ BZZZZZ!_

He picked up the phone. He supposed it didn't matter. They weren't friends.

**Matt: **Guess what!

**Mello: **What?

**Matt: **They gave me free food today!

**Mello: **Who's they? And why?

**Matt: **They is Gary &amp; my colleagues. And why is because we closed up early &amp; there were leftovers.

**Mello: **Where do you work?

**Matt: **Specifically?

**Mello: **Generally.

**Matt: **I do programming when there's business, but for stability I work at an ice cream place.

For some reason, the thought of this made Mello smile. This whole time, he'd been imagining his mental picture of Matt (which was very sketchy, by the way - the only constant part of it being the dumb smile on its face) working in some crummy newsagent's or standing in the corner of a cinema, sweeping up sticky old bits of popcorn.

**Mello: **So you got free ice cream?

**Matt: **Some, yeah! The machine shorted, so we had to close up early and give away all of it before it melted.

**Mello: **That sounds like fun.

**Matt: **It was, but now I feel really sick.

Mello grinned. He was glad that he hadn't stopped talking to this guy.

**Mello: **How much did you eat?

**Matt: **Idk, maybe 10 cones?

**Mello: **In 10 minutes?

**Matt: **It was all such a blur.

**Mello: **I wish I was there.

_Shit! Did I just send that?_

Mello hadn't meant to say something so... well, he supposed it wasn't that bad, but it felt weird knowing he'd just sent that message to a stranger. I wish I was there? _Really_? It wasn't exactly a lie - Matt's life sounded significantly more interesting than his own did right now - but still.

**Matt: **Do u like ice cream?

**Mello: **Who doesn't?

**Matt: **Idk, freaks? Oh, &amp; lactose intolerant people

**Mello: **I'm sure they still like it. They just can't have any.

**Matt: **That's a shame.

**Mello: **Yeah.

**Matt: **Where do u work, Mel?

**Mello: **How do you know I'm not unemployed?

**Matt: **Someone like u wouldn't be.

**Mello: **What's that supposed to mean?

**Matt: **I always pictured u in some high-class job or something

**Mello: **Pff. I sweep the floor in a salon.

**Matt: **A salon?!

**Mello: **Yeah, why?

**Matt: **Do u want 2 be a hairdresser?

**Mello: **No, but it pays okay.

**Matt: **Fair enough.

Mello decided not to mention that he hadn't been in work lately due to the nature of his RSI. He didn't want Matt to get worried about him, in case it meant they had to stop texting. As it was, his tendons were already feeling pretty sore, just from this short dialogue.

**Matt: **Also, was there something u wanted? Like important?

**Mello: **No, why?

**Matt: **Cos u texted me.

**Mello: **Oh, no - I just wanted to talk.

**Matt: **Really?

**Mello: **Yes?

**Mello: **Yes! Matt? Why?

**Matt: **Nothing, sorry, I didn't just put the phone down so I could dance around.

**Mello: **You didn't?

**Matt: **Of course not. Totally not.

**Mello: **Someone seems happy.

**Matt: **Someone just got 10 free ice creams and a person who texts him just because.

Mello was not an easy person to silence, but in all truths, he had no idea what he was supposed to say to that. Had his attention really made Matt so happy? Did this guy - this _stranger _\- actually value his conversation that much?

How could that have happened? Sure, he'd been useful and he'd helped Matt come down from whatever existential crisis he'd been having a few nights ago, but... what?! Nobody liked his company that much. Nobody. He was the bitchiest person he knew.

**Matt: **Mello?

**Mello: **Hi

**Matt: **Hi

**Mello: **Does this mean we're friends?

There it was. He'd said it now; it was out there in the open, wild, free, and tantalizing. Mello didn't want Matt so say no, just because he'd feel stupid, but it was what he was expecting. Nobody would agree to be friends with somebody they'd only spoken to via text-message. Nobody. Not even someone as lonely as-

**Matt: **I think I'm going to throw up

**Mello: **What?!

**Matt: **OH SHIT no, that's not what I meant

**Matt: **That came out totally wrong

Mello was pissed off that his hands weren't letting him type as fast as he wanted. It meant that Matt kept beating him to it. But with every uncalculated movement of his right hand, a sharp twinge would shoot along his tendons and he could feel the discomfort pooling in the base of his thumb.

He watched the screen.

**Matt: **I feel sick, because of the ice cream and the dancing

**Matt: **Sorry, I'm an idiot

**Matt: **Friends sounds great!

And there it was: a reply. Mello sighed loudly into his empty room and fumbled to reply, wincing as his hand twitched and cramped.

**Mello: **Really?

**Matt: **Yeah! Um, unless u don't want 2

**Mello: **I do

**Matt: **Really?

**Mello: **Sure.

**Matt: **Wow. I can actually count my number of friends on 1 hand now!

**Mello: **Could you not before?

**Matt: **I used to be able 2 count it on no hands.

**Mello: **Aren't you friends with your colleagues? Or something?

**Matt: **Sort of. But we never really talk outside work, so I don't think it counts.

**Matt: **And I know they talk 2 each other. It's just me.

**Mello: **Oh.

That was kind of sad, Mello thought. Matt seemed like an alright kind of guy. If he was anything like his text messages in real life, then he should be surrounded by friends. Mello made fun of his sense of humour a lot, but the truth was, he was actually pretty funny.

**Matt: **But it's okay.

**Mello: **We're friends now.

**Matt: **Still not sure how I managed to swing that

**Mello: **Relentless moose texts, remember?

**Matt: **Right. Relentless moose texts.

**Mello: **Foolproof method, right there.

**Matt: **Hey...

**Mello: **What?

**Matt: ...**Since there was more than one message...

**Mello: **Don't you dare

**Matt: **...Meeseges

**Mello: **MOTHERFUCKER

* * *

**Well, that's it for this time! Expect the next update shortly, given how in-between revision sessions, I'm apparently addicted to writing these flipping things.**

** I hope you enjoyed this, and if you did, please review - it brightens my whole day. And also I'm really proud of the pun at the end. (Though I should probably be deeply ashamed of it.) As a side note, I hope you like where this story is going. I've decided to stop listing it as complete for now, because I am not planning on stopping any time soon.**

** As a side-note, Angel From The Moon has been resumed and I am currently working on the next chapter of it (which is shaping up to be the longest chapter yet). I can't promise a speedy update, since I have a lot of revision to do, but in my breaks I will be working on it, so it shouldn't take forever. Thanks for all your support and have a nice day!**


	5. Simon Says

**Okay, this chapter was great fun to write. Partly just because the initial idea that sparked it made me laugh, and partly because I got really into it towards the end, as the chapter grew more fluffy. I hope you enjoy my efforts! Depending on how things go, I'd say this'll be one of the last little chapters to take place before we get back to where we started - their real-life meeting in chapter one, the Plural of Moose. Thank you to anyone who has reviewed and supported this story thus far. I hope you enjoy this chapter - it's probably my favourite so far!**

* * *

**Matt: **Hey babe... I'm so cold under this duvet... I wish you were here to warm me up ;)

**Matt: **Do you want to play Simon Says?

**Mello: **Holy shit

**Mello: **I can't breathe

**Mello: **Whoever stole your mobile is a fucking LEGEND

Despite it having happened before, Matt was always slightly surprised when he heard his phone buzzing, knowing that Mello had texted him first. It was a pleasant kind of surprise; one which had him smiling to himself as he reached out from under his (now fresh) duvet, feeling around for the phone.

He pulled it into his nest by the string of his phone charm; a Mario mushroom he'd been given by one of his secondary-school friends, which he kept partly because it was decorative and partly because he was a sentimental dolt. The phone had fast become his primary source of happiness, to the extent where he barely even caught himself feeling down any more.

And then, of course, he read Mello's message.

He felt his throat close up.

He read the messages which had been sent by "him."

He choked. It was a laugh, and it wasn't.

**Matt: **Excuse me while I go interrogate everyone I know

**Matt: **At knifepoint

**Matt: **(I'm joking about the knife)

He could feel himself blushing intensely, but didn't pull the covers back to allow himself some air. No, he wanted to burrow deeper. Somewhere he'd never have to face the world again. Or, more specifically, Mello.

**Mello: **I almost had a heart attack when I read this shit

**Mello: **But then I realised it wasn't you

**Matt: **How could u tell?

**Mello: **Because you type like a 12-year-old.

Matt snickered, but he still felt flushed with embarrassment. What must Mello have thought before the realisation hit him? What would _he _have thought, had the situation been reversed?

It wasn't just the fact that one of his colleagues had taken his phone and sent a message to Mello with it. It was that, in order to make sure they didn't send it to a sibling or something (and knowing the people at his work, they would probably be considerate enough to check), they'd have had to read some of the texts. And as he scrolled through the last few they'd sent before _the incident_, he realised that they must've gotten... a very _particular _impression of their friendship.

**Matt: **Oh, right, yeah XD

**Mello: **Any idea who did it?

**Matt: **Some1 from work. Maybe Ryuuzaki, he can be a prat.

There was a pause. Then,

**Mello: **I'll just pretend to know who that is.

**Matt: **He's a human panda. He eats more ice cream than he sells.

**Mello: **Okay.

Matt was still blushing wildly. He thought that the flush he felt on his cheeks might be a result of duvet-smothering, but upon surfacing and breathing in new air, he did not feel it recede. So he _was_ embarrassed, then. Great. But why?

**Matt: **I'm really sorry about this

**Mello: **It's fine. It was funny

**Matt: **Still

**Matt: **I feel like a dork

**Mello: **It's okay

**Matt: **Hey, r u okay btw?

He was concerned. He was also changing the subject. He didn't want to be embarrassed any more, and so he swallowed the feeling with concern.

It wasn't a pressing matter, but it was something he'd been picking up on more and more in the back of his mind, these past two weeks. It needed addressing.

**Mello: **Yes, why?

**Matt: **Ur taking longer 2 reply than usual

He waited. And waited.

**Mello: **You've been timing me?

**Matt: **No, but I can tell

**Mello: **Just sleepy

**Matt: **R u sure?

**Mello: **Yes

**Matt: **Sleepy yesterday too? &amp; the day before?

Pause. _And breathe. _Pause. _And breathe._

**Mello: **Fine

**Mello: **You got me

**Mello: **RSI.

This answer was not the answer Matt had been expecting.

He'd thought - with the way their conversations had been running lately - that perhaps Mello was getting a little sick of him. That, after mistakenly agreeing to be his friend, he was having second thoughts and every time he responded, his reluctance grew. But no.

Matt himself was no stranger to the pains of RSI, of course. He'd felt it before; it was his body's way of telling him he'd been playing video games for too long; his way of knowing when to shut everything off and go relax. The RSI he knew was annoying, sometimes. But it had never, ever hurt enough to inhibit his abilities to send a string of texts. Never had it been bad enough for that.

**Matt: **It's that bad?

**Mello: **Yes.

**Matt: **Shit... I'm sorry

**Mello: **?

Even his texting habits had changed, a little. Mello never used text-slang as a rule, even though it was convenient. But a few weeks ago, he wouldn't have said _?_ either; he'd have asked a very straightforward _why?_

**Matt: **Is texting making it worse?

No reply. _Don't be impatient, Matt. He's trying._

**Mello: **Yes, but I don't want to stop.

**Matt: **U probs should.

**Mello: **No

**Matt: **Don't be dumb. It's hurting u. Stop.

**Mello: **No

**Matt: **U can't type much anyway.

And pause. Matt could feel a sentence coming. It felt like a spring, coiling tighter and tighter in his chest.

**Mello: **But then how do we talk?

Matt froze up. He thought about it. He knew the answer.

Still, the idea made his hands tremble as he typed his next three words. He felt scared and vulnerable at the idea of what it was that he was about to suggest. It seemed dangerous, and yet, at the same time, it felt like the next natural step.

If they were going to be friends, he had to do this. No chickening out now.

**Matt: **I could call?

There it was. He'd sent it now. Only Mello's reply would tell him whether he'd gotten it wrong or not.

**Mello: **You want to?

**Matt: **Sure. Can't let u hurt urself more by trying 2 type.

**Mello: **Um, thanks.

**Matt: **Is this happening?

**Mello: **Yes

**Matt: **Okay. Cool. 1 sec.

It didn't take as long as he'd have liked it to for him to locate Mello's number in his contacts. Here it was; the moment of truth. He couldn't delay this any more than he had.

He dialled.

"Matt?"

Matt's heart jumped. It was one thing to make friends with someone via nonstop texting; it was another to hear them against your ear.

"Matt, are you there?"

He knew that this voice would sound different in real life. Knew it, but still felt both petrified and delighted by this new and unplanned element to their friendship.

"Matt, I can hear you breathing. Say something?"

He gave a shuddery breath. "Sorry. Hi, Mel."

"This is weird, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It feels like I'm just meeting you."

A laugh sounded against Matt's ear and he found himself grinning at the ceiling, wrapped up in this strange new reality. "You sound different to what I was expecting, Matt."

"I-I do?"

"Yeah," said Mello, and yes, his voice sounded different too; good-different, like he'd ordered a cinnamon coffee and been given a chocolate one by mistake. "Higher-pitched."

Matt cleared his throat. "I do not sound high-pitched!"

Another laugh; one which shut down Matt's throat entirely. "No, you don't. Just higher than I thought. Maybe it's your phone voice."

"Well, y-you sound different too," Matt managed weakly. How was this so difficult?

"Do I?"

"Yeah. You have an accent or something."

"I didn't think you'd notice."

"What is it?" A pause. "I'm not going to guess."

"Slovene," Mello said airily through the speaker. "You wouldn't have got it."

"Screw you, I might've done."

Mello laughed again. This whole situation... it was so weird. Matt couldn't picture the face on the other end of the line, nor had he known what his voice would be like, just minutes ago. They were still strangers, and yet, inexplicably, they were friends too.

"Sure you might've."

Matt wanted to jab him in the side for that, but of course, he didn't know where Mello was. Or who he was.

"To be honest, I thought you were English before I heard you."

"Well, I grew up here," came the gentle reply. Matt knew he couldn't rely on the sound for 100% accuracy, but he couldn't help liking it even so. Mello had a pleasant voice.

"S-So did I?"

Another laugh. "Yeah, no shit."

Matt hung his head. "S-Sorry. My conversation skills in real life are sucky."

"No worries," Mello replied. "It's sweet."

"It's what?"

"Fuck - did I just say that out loud?"

* * *

**Maybe I should've continued here, but it seemed like a fun cut-off point. Don't be too mad at me, m'kay?**

** I'm on a break from exams right now, hence why I have time to write this (though if I were a sensible human, I'd probably be using this time for extra revision... damn it), but don't expect this burst of frequent updates to last. After this week, I will be settling back into my exam routine, and then it'll be just a few weeks of hard studying before I'm free for summer break!**

** Angel From The Moon could potentially be updated this week, also (if you're interested in checking that out), though if it isn't, expect it to resume after my exam hiatus is over. I've nearly finished the chapter I'm working on.**

** On another note, in case anyone was curious, I have RSI. That's part of the reason why I inserted this little theme into their conversations; it's something I've had for a good year or so now and it sucks butts. I'd say it's not as bad as I've written Mello's (for the most part, at least) but not as good as Matt's (I wish). Not sure why I'm bringing this up. I just felt like it.**

** Adios, and remember, reviews are my life force. ^^**


	6. Red

**And here we have it - the penultimate chapter of The Plural Of Moose! I'm feeling pretty excited about this one... we've almost come full-circle.**

** Thank you, first of all, to those of you who reviewed my last chapter. Your feedback is truly appreciated and it's a good strong part of what fuelled me to carry on with this story.**

** Anyhow, let's not dally. I haven't edited this chapter, so there may be typos (sorry in advance), but I'm too excited about it to go back over and correct bits. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Mello narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the screen of his laptop. The screen was usually dominated by text documents - assignments he felt compelled to complete, despite being signed off and in a lot of pain with his hand - but today, the only window open was a single tab on the internet. A first.

He huffed, staring at the little grey square in the centre of his screen. He was looking at a poor-quality online map (Google Maps always made his screen freeze), and the grey square was a building. A café, to be specific. A café made complete with a chirpy red balloon, sprouting from its centre to detail its location.

His bed squeaked under him as he shifted. It had been a while since he'd last sat in bed with his laptop and he was struggling to get comfortable. Weakly, he cleared his throat and said, "This is the place?"

He'd forgotten how close he was holding the phone. It made him start a little when Matt spoke in his ear. "Well, on the assumption that you followed my link, yes."

Mello was still getting used to Matt's phone voice. It had been a fortnight since they'd first spoken out loud, and since then, they'd been doing it whenever they got the opportunity. Of course, it was less convenient than texting was, but that was okay. Whatever weird semi-friendship they had going on was worth it.

"I followed it," Mello said, but paused even so to check that the numbers in his URL matched the numbers in the email he'd been sent. (They'd swapped emails recently, too, not that they had to. True, it was easier for Mello to send an email via laptop than a text via mobile - the big keyboard put less strain on his hand - but even so, phoning had become their default method. In fact, the only times their email exchange had proven useful were the times they had needed to link each other to online pages.)

"I've never eaten there before, but it looks okay," said Matt, into his ear. Mello nodded to himself, despite the other not being able to see.

"Hmm."

"Hmm?"

"It's just weird thinking that the easiest place for both of us to get to from our towns is _this one café_."

In his ear, Matt sounded reproachful. "There are probably other places..."

"No, it's fine," Mello decided. Clamping the phone between his head and shoulder, he took a notepad from his bedside drawer and - wincing slightly as he gripped the pen - took down the address. "It doesn't matter where we go, really. Just that we're going."

"I guess so," answered Matt. He chuckled a little before continuing. "Wow. I don't think I've ever been this excited to meet someone."

"Well, as long as you don't drool on me, I'm not complaining."

Another laugh, this one more nervous and stuttery than anything. "Sorry. I hope that didn't sound like I was being overboard."

"Not at all," Mello said. He looked once more at the grey square on his screen before closing the window.

"By the way... how are we going to spot each other?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well... we're each travelling at least an hour out of town for this and we've planned it in detail, so, uh... it would kinda suck if we both got there and couldn't find each other."

"But we'll both be stood outside," Mello protested. He swallowed, unconsciously raising a hand to his scarred cheek. "Surely we'll work it out."

"Even so," Matt insisted. "I kind of really don't want to get it wrong and start talking to a stranger."

Mello sighed quietly, hoping the sound didn't carry through the receiver. He didn't want this complication. He knew Matt was nervous and he didn't want that either... but he could really do without this complication.

"What are you suggesting?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Maybe we, uh... maybe we should send photos of ourselves, or something. Just to clarify."

Mello tipped his head back, allowing it to thunk against the wooden headboard of the bed. He gripped the phone tightly in his left hand; the one that wasn't crippled by the RSI.

"I'm not sure about that."

"Why not? We'll be seeing each other for real this weekend."

"I know, but..." Damn it. He could usually make up excuses faster than this. _Think, think, think. _"...We've lasted this long. Maybe it should be a surprise."

_It's not that. I just know you'll change your mind when you see me._

"Really?" Matt didn't sound like he bought it. "Um, I guess so..."

"I'm sorry," said Mello suddenly. "If it's a bad idea, we don't have to-"

"No, it's fine," Matt managed through the phone. Mello internally hit himself. He wasn't feeling good about this situation, even though he'd agreed to it. Long-distance friendship was easy, but this?

He'd only gone along with it because he figured there wouldn't be any consequences. Matt would be spooked when they met in person, would make an excuse to leave early, and gradually their texts would thin out until they never spoke to each other at all. And it wouldn't matter, because they were only ever strangers. They'd only ever meet once.

But somehow it did matter. Somehow, somehow, this mattered a lot. Mello could feel it mattering in his chest, like the feeling you get when you miss a step heading downstairs; the sudden plummet through air as your foot sinks down lower than you were expecting it to. He could feel it mattering like the moment of panic that took over when you leaned slightly too far back in your chair. He was nervous. He wanted to meet Matt properly, but he didn't, because he didn't want goodbye.

"Mel? You still there?"

Mello nodded to his bedroom, then said breathily, "Yeah." He couldn't recall when he'd started feeling out of breath.

"Good. I thought you might've put the phone down and gone into another room or something." A laugh punctuated the end of the sentence, but Mello knew Matt was being serious. He slapped his forehead, for real this time. It hurt his hand more than his head.

"Sorry."

"No worries," Matt chirped in reply. There was a pause, and then he said, "So, uh... if we're not swapping pictures, how are we going to spot each other on the day?"

Mello was rolling his shoulders, trying to release the tension which had built up there. He felt glad, when he spoke, that his breath was coming back. "What's the most recognisable part of you, Matt?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, if you saw yourself at the other end of the street. What would catch your eye?"

"Oh, right! Um... that would be my hair."

"Why?"

"It's red."

Mello blinked at his desktop. "What?"

"My hair," Matt repeated. "It's brown naturally, but I dye it red."

Mello nodded, but he still couldn't process this new information. Idly, with his RSI-hand, he tapped the letters R-E-D onto his keyboard, without pressing any of the keys down. "Like, ginger-red?"

"No, not really." Matt sounded slightly bashful now. "More kind of like a pillar-box colour. Not a natural red at all."

Mello was unable to control his smile, though it came accompanied with several other less-welcome friends; a blush, for example, and this startled happy noise in his throat that he tried to keep silent. He felt both annoyed with himself and extremely happy. It was like Matt had planned this, only he couldn't have, really.

After all... he'd never told Matt that he had a thing for red hair.

"Mel?"

"Sorry," Mello said again, and he cleared his throat. He'd been apologising more frequently than Matt did this afternoon; he'd have to stop or... well... he had to stop. "Never mind. Okay. So, I'll recognise you by your hair, right? It's unlikely anyone else with hair like yours will be waiting outside the café."

"Right," Matt said, but he still didn't sound completely happy. "That's good. No, great. But, uh... how am I going to recognise you?"

Mello paused. Did he say it? Did he say something else?

"Mello."

"I-I, uh, I have-I'm blonde," he forced out. He hadn't been brave enough to say it. He'd never been self-conscious about his face before, but then, he'd never had to wonder whether someone would be put off by it. Everyone else he'd tried for friendship with had been able to see him from the start.

"Wow," said Matt quietly.

"Wow what?"

"Nothing. I don't know what I was imagining, but it wasn't blonde."

Mello chuckled. The way Matt said it made it sound like a compliment, so he took it.

"Still, there are a lot of blondes around..."

Damn it. He'd known it was coming.

"...can you give me any other kind of detail?"

There was no easy way out of it, Mello thought. He'd be finding out on the day anyway, so he might as well say it here and now. A test, to make sure that journeying for an hour to a café he'd never visited would be worthwhile.

He could always specify the length of his hair. That, in itself, wasn't overly typical of his age and gender. But then, if Matt wasn't bothered by the scar, he'd wonder why it hadn't been mentioned before. He had to say it.

"I, uh... I have a, um... scar. On my face."

"A scar?"

"Yeah, it's pretty hard to miss."

"Were you born with it?"

"No," Mello said quietly. He was pleased that Matt hadn't immediately ended the call, but then, he doubted it was anything beyond curiosity keeping his stranger-friend on the phone. "I got it in a fire. But, uhm, yeah... it's pretty big, so, uh... you'll definitely know me when you see me."

The cheerful edge he'd attempted to add to his voice at the end sounded wrong. False and sing-song, idiotic and sad. Matt didn't speak for a moment. Mello wondered if he was going to.

And then, "Thanks, Mello."

Mello breathed out.

"So I guess I'll, uh, see you on Wednesday?"

"Yeah. See you on Wednesday."

They hung up.

* * *

Mello had felt something off in Matt's tone as he said his last sentence. He wasn't sure, but he felt like it was because of the scar.

He thought about Matt... what he might do when he saw it for real. The worry was enough to almost fully smother his excitement.

Matt. The stranger who had befriended him blindfolded. Matt, with red hair. Matt.

He tried to picture him, but couldn't really. Again, he felt nervous. He imagined trainers backing away on the pavement; imagined the startled phone-voice pretending not to be distracted by his face. Imagining Matt felt exciting, but imagining how he'd react to the scar made him scared. Matt's voice. Matt's voice, but _dismayed._

The excitement and fear were warring in his mind, a delicate balancing act that made wild dips and left Mello very tempted to cancel the whole thing. But he couldn't do that now. He kept imagining Matt's voice, and the hair that went with it, and the question-mark of his face.

He thought about how much he wanted to meet Matt, and how much he didn't.

The thought both broke his heart and warmed it.

* * *

**So yeah... this was fun! The first actual chapter of the story not to contain any text-messages. It kind of felt like breaking a pattern, but then again, having them text each other despite Mello's RSI seemed kind of unrealistic. I hope you liked the change of pace.**

** Thanks for reading, if you got here, and please do leave a review! ^^ It cheers me up a lot, and I'm in exam time, so I need all the cheering up you can offer me. I hope you like where this story's headed, and I'm just here to inform you that the next chapter will be the GRAND FINALE, so, heh... there's that.**

** (If it helps, I did start a new project on here a couple of days ago, titled Perfect. Go look at that if you're annoyed that this one's nearly over.)**

** Have a nice day, good luck if you - like me - have exams or anything else you need luck for! **


	7. Hot Chocolate Kiss

**Hey guys! I know this one took me quite a while (hey, I'm allowed a holiday - plus, I wanted to take my time to get this just the way I wanted it), but here you have it: the final instalment of The Plural Of Moose. Here's to a story that was only ever planned as a oneshot, which grew and grew into what it is today. Thank you to all who've read and reviewed so far, it means a lot that you've taken an interest, and I hope you like the way it ends!**

** For reference, we have gone full-circle timeline-wise. The chapter you are about to read is set on the same day as the ending of the first chapter, only after Mel and Matt have spent the day together. Anyway, yes, enjoy.**

* * *

"Is this your stop?"

"Yeah, this is my stop."

"We should sit down."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

A pause.

"It's annoying that they make these seats all slanted. You can't sit on them properly without sticking out your leg like a post."

"My legs aren't long enough for that."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Another pause, this time punctuated by a gentle laugh.

"Well, mine are only just," said Mello. He leaned closer to Matt and heaved a gentle sigh, feeling the other's warmth through the thickness of both their winter coats. It had been a long day, in the end. Where he'd been expecting Matt to make an excuse and escape as quickly as possible, they'd found themselves so lost in each other's company that they had to order dinner at the café they met outside of, as well as lunch.

Mello had discovered, much to his dismay, that Matt had been fearing exactly the same as he had: that he would be left on his own after an hour or so, having done something or said something off-putting. (Or, in Mello's case, just plain _looked _off-putting, as he had convinced himself he would.) Not that that seemed at all rational in Mello's head - who in their right mind would leave behind someone like Matt?

Matt nudged Mello in the arm gently, playfully. "Short people can't make fun of other short people for their shortness. That isn't allowed."

"Hey now, I wasn't making fun." Mello nudged him back. All the while, he was thinking, _shit, you're such a brilliant person._ "And I am taller, so you can't tell me what I'm not allowed to do."

"Can too."

"Can't."

Another pause, filled with the low drone of trucks rumbling in the distance, the high-pitched wail of police sirens and Mello's quiet slurp on the takeaway hot chocolate he was drinking. It had gotten chilly as the evening drew on; chilly and dark, like someone had mixed ink with ice water and then spilled it across the sky. Mello was tempted to put his arm around Matt to warm both of them up, but he wasn't confident enough to go through with it. It seemed like something that might backfire, and they'd gotten so far already. They'd even survived a conversation about his _scar._

Not a problem, Matt had told him, upon hearing Mello's apologetic babble on its behalf. It's not a problem. Those simple words of acceptance had sent such delicious shockwaves running through Mello. His scar - the same massive fuck-off scar which had lost him several job opportunities, the same scar which frightened children and made those working in customer service politely look away - wasn't a problem to Matt? While Mello himself had spent years obsessing over it and pretending not to give a fuck about how people saw him, here was a person who didn't even mind enough to ask for an explanation. _Yes_, Mello thought with a smile, _Matt is a rare and brilliant find._

Said Matt was also now clearing his throat to talk. "Fine, you win. But if I can't tell you what you're not allowed to do..."

"...Yes?"

"Would you still allow me to tell you what you _can _do?"

_I think I know what I can do_, thought Mello, shifting back on the awkward bus seat to keep himself from slipping off of it further. His feet were cold in his boots, but he wasn't really concentrating on that. His focus was Matt, to whom he replied with a smirk, "You can try."

Matt glanced away for a second. Mello noticed then that his bus was on its way, gliding towards them with a large green 7 glowing out of its front screen. He realised that whatever Matt was about to say, it'd probably be a goodbye. Digesting this knowledge left a hard little knot in the pit of his stomach; a knot that felt lonely, needy, reluctant to leave the company he was in. Who knew how long it'd be before they saw each other again?

When Matt glanced back, there was a pink on his cheeks that Mello supposed must've been from facing into the icy wind. He bit his lip briefly, then spoke. "You can-fuck, nope, I knew this wouldn't work."

Confused, Mello went to protest when he felt Matt rising beside him, plopping off of the bench and landing on the pavement with a slight bounce before stepping away to catch his bus. He wasn't looking at Mello properly and it was irritating.

Immediately, he joined Matt on his feet. He'd take the same bus if he had to, even though it travelled in the opposite direction to his city. It was a pure impulse, however, when he grabbed Matt's wrist and said indignantly, "Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

Matt spun around to face him with alarm in his eyes at the sudden rough treatment, but made no moves to free his ensnared wrist. He glanced back agitatedly at the bus as it was pulling up, maybe scared that he was going to miss it, but apparently the bus driver was in a patient mood because the vehicle waited, rumbling, as they stood together at the stop.

"I was going to tell you to-oh, it doesn't matter now. I guess I'll see you around?" Matt managed to stammer out weakly.

"Yeah, I guess you will," answered Mello. He'd wanted to sound casual about it, like, _yeah sure, I don't really give a damn when but we could probably cross the country to see each other again at some point_... though he knew he'd failed. The disappointment coloured his voice like a drop of blue paint in water.

But Matt wasn't finished. Before Mello could say anything else, he'd leaned upwards and pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. "M'kay, bye!"

A few moments later, the bus pulled away with Matt safely inside it, leaving Mello stood bewildered on the street. The skin where Matt had kissed him was tingling strangely, so he reached up a gloved hand to feel at it numbly. The hand was warm from holding his hot chocolate and it clashed sharply with the coolness of the kiss. He removed his hand, muttering to himself, "Yeah... bye..."

* * *

Ten minutes passed and Matt had comfortably curled up on one of the bus's back seats, heard still thudding with the weight of what he'd done. He'd felt so nervous about doing it - about first offering a kiss to Mello, and then scrapping that plan in order to just get on with it. Yet he was sure it had been the right thing to do.

Sure it had, because Mello had turned out every bit as interesting as he'd expected, if not more. Because his scar didn't detract remotely from his appearance; if anything, it left him with the allure of a rough gemstone, yet to be smoothed and polished. Because they'd been huddled very close at the bus stop, close enough for Matt to smell his hair and - surely he wouldn't have let him get that close if he wasn't thinking the same kind of thing?

Even so, his heart almost stopped when he felt his phone vibrate in his jeans pocket. _Maybe it's not him_, he thought, trying to fight the overwhelming sensations coming from every direction inside him. _Surely it's not him. And it might not be bad news. Oh, who are you kidding, Matt - he hates you now! Shut up, no he doesn't. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

He fumbled with the phone. It was Mello, determined to text him despite his ever-worsening RSI - which Matt had seen for himself as he'd written his full name on a napkin so that Matt could add him on social media. Matt had to take some deep breaths before he opened the text, just in case this was the end.

But it wasn't.

**Mello: **If you ever do that again, I will let you say "meese" as often as you like.

* * *

**Well... there you have it! My accidental continuous story is now over and done with. I hope you liked the way this went, please leave a review (it really cheers me up) and if you found this story entertaining, please do check out my other works because they don't seem to be getting much love lately. Anyway, yes, thanks again and have a nice summer!**


	8. New Year

**I'm a little late for the New Year, I know, but I thought some of you might appreciate this last-minute continuation of The Plural of Moose! This story is entirely completed, though this is a bonus chapter, written to say thank you to the wonderful readers and reviewers who helped to support the favourite of my fanfictions written in 2015.**

* * *

**Matt: **Happy New Year, honeybee.

**Mello: **There are still twenty minutes to go.

**Mello: **And don't call me honeybee.

A small grin broke out on Matt's face upon receiving that text message. He'd been trying for weeks to get Mello to admit that he liked his stupid nicknames, but to no avail - he wouldn't budge. The truth was, he visibly adored them. Any time Matt dropped in a _munchkin _or _my little noodle_, he would groan in protest and swiftly deny him permission to repeat the phrase ever again - yet there was always something about the way he said it, a little smile playing at the corner of his mouth that made it plain that his discouragements were really encouragements in disguise.

(And if it were something serious, then of course, Matt would stop as soon as Mello asked him to. But he knew this was just Mello being stubborn, trying to hide the truth the same way he'd hide a care bear if he owned one.)

**Mello: **Come over here. I want to talk to you.

**Matt: **I'm 2 lazy 2 move. U could call me?

**Mello: **Bitch, we've been long-distance for months and now I'm here in your hometown. Come and fucking see me.

**Matt: **Fine... snuggleberry.

With a reluctance that was entirely feigned, he hefted himself upwards from the armchair he'd been sinking into and made a quick jaunt across the room - no easy feat, considering how it was full of semi-drunk friends and relatives, all chattering and laughing and telling each other about their New Year's Resolutions with hand gestures enthusiastic enough to smack people every which way. Once he'd made it to the other side of the throng and dusted himself off, he began scouting about.

**Matt: **Where the fuck r u?

**Mello: **I'm on the balcony.

Of course. Since arriving at Matt's family home - he'd been staying with them since the 27th of December and would be returning home on January 2nd - Mello had spent countless hours on the balcony. He loved it. Any time when he wasn't talking to Matt's mother, helping with the washing up or spending time with Matt himself, he'd be out there, curled up with a book. The number of books he'd been reading since opting to take time out of Uni had grown significantly. To Matt - the opposite of a technophobe - the rising stacks were alarming and scary.

**Mello: **Are you coming or not?

"I'm right here, angelcake," he announced himself, sliding open the French windows with what he hoped was an alluring flick of the wrist. It twinged a bit.

"About damn time."

Mello uncurled himself from his position on one of the two crappy plastic garden chairs which surrounded a crappy plastic garden table his mother had bought the previous year, when summer had been promisingly warmish. It was still weird seeing Mello in his home, on those chairs, after knowing him for so long as this distant figure, wanted but never touched. Now, he could reach out and touch Mello whenever he wanted. And want he did.

Gingerly - still unused to everything they'd become - he stepped forward to greet him, stroking a hand through his hair and pulling him into an awkward hug. Mello - with his head pressed into Matt's stomach, still sitting down - wrapped his arms around him and gave him a brief squeeze before pulling away.

"Sit down. I have something to tell you."

Matt felt a little jolt in his stomach, like someone had just pushed him off-balance, yet he did as he was told. Lowering himself into the adjacent chair, he couldn't help but notice what looked like a trace of nervousness beneath his boyfriend's collected expression. It was the way his lips were pressed together, the way he wouldn't break eye contact for a second.

He tried not to reflect his nerves as he spoke, though he knew Mello would pick up on them anyway. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't think so," Mello answered unhelpfully. It was very hard to deconstruct his body language, which was Matt's usual method for dealing with an uncomfortable situation. Not as hard as it had been from across the country via cellular communication device, but hard even so. He was tense; that much was obvious. But beyond that?

"Tell me," Matt pressed. "Come on. This is purgatory."

"Purgatory?" Mello scoffed a little at that, though he'd uncrossed his legs and crossed them again the other way, which showed that he was feeling fidgety. Matt didn't know how it could be, that someone's body language could betray them while at the same time giving absolutely nothing away.

"Yeah, purgatory. You know I don't like being in the dark. Come on, it can't be that bad, right?"

"It's-"

Mello stopped himself and sighed, bringing a hand up to his mouth and crinkling his eyebrows. In their three days together this winter - Hell, in all of their country-crossing dates thus far - Matt had never seen him like this.

"It's not bad," Mello said eventually. "I'm just not sure how you'll take it."

"Why? What's going on?"

"I'm moving," Mello said. Matt watched the Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallowed.

"Moving where?" he blurted immediately. His pulse had lifted a little, he could feel the tension coiling in his limbs, could feel himself getting fidgety as he struggled to comprehend the news. "Is it Slovenia? Please say it's not Slovenia."

It was hard enough living in a different city to Mello; in the last five months he'd only seen him a handful of times, not counting all the Skype calls and texts. He didn't know how he'd cope if Mello was in a different country. _Please. I don't want you to go away._

"It's not Slovenia."

"Then where is it? Where are you going?"

"Calm down, Matt," Mello said, and he was smiling a little, though his hands were still clasped nervously in his lap. "It's here. I'm moving here. At the end of January."

Matt opened his mouth. Then shut it again.

"I know it's a big deal and I'm sorry for not talking to you about it. I wasn't sure what you'd think about me living in the same city, is all. I know we've been doing well long-distance - really well, actually - but I, uh, I wasn't sure if this was going to be too soon."

It was like the dam inside Mello had broken and all this nervous babble just came rushing out. Matt could only stare for a few long seconds before stringing together a reply. "You're... moving here?"

"Yeah. There's an apartment maybe a few streets away."

"...Wow."

"Are you mad at me?"

"No."

Matt wasn't sure exactly how he felt, but he knew he wasn't mad. Nervous, maybe - nervous that he'd screw things up, now that they'd be able to see each other more regularly. Surprised, definitely. He'd never expected Mello to travel this far.

"Why here?" he asked, again trying to channel the nervousness out of his words. If he wasn't mistaken, Mello was blushing a little in the low light.

"Well, there's you," he said, and he wasn't looking him in the eye now. "I really like you, Matt. I don't mind talking to you online and all that, but I just... I thought it might be nice, if we were closer together."

"But it's not just me, is it?"

"Not exactly. I always liked the look of this area - you're a bonus. And now that there's no Uni tying me to my current city..."

Matt couldn't help it. He jumped up and hugged him, forgetting that he was seated on a notoriously unwieldy plastic garden chair. It was as the two of them smacked into the balcony's concrete flooring - with an ugly scrape of plastic and a startled yelp from Mello - that a countdown started inside the house, drifting out through the French windows and being echoed on the streets below.

"Shit, sorry," Matt mumbled, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm happy. Come here."

It was a strange start to the New Year. But lying on the floor of a concrete balcony with the leg of a crappy plastic garden chair digging into his shoulder, kissing the first person he'd ever felt a genuine connection with, Matt didn't think he could be happier. Especially with the knowledge that Mello would be moving here soon, close enough to see every day if he wanted. Gently, he brushed a few strands of Mello's hair from his forehead, bringing his hand down to caress his cheek as an afterthought. He could feel Mello's arms locked around his waist. It felt more like a fresh beginning than New Year's Eve had in a long time.

"I think I'm in love with you," he said, when they broke apart.

Mello was silent for a few moments. Matt thought about moving off him and apologising, but he didn't. He wanted to know how Mello would respond. Though layers of self-loathing and insecurity built up from years and years of loneliness had him certain he'd be rejected, there was a hopeful thumping in his chest. Mello was crossing the country to be with him; even if he wasn't ready to say the three words yet, he surely felt them. And even the possibility felt exciting.

So when Mello breathed back, "I think I love you too," Matt almost wasn't shocked. Except, naturally, he was. The relief he felt from that one simple sentence produced a sound from within him he'd never thought himself capable of making. It was something halfway between a squeal and a hiccup, definitely too high-pitched to seem natural from someone whose voice had broken. It sent Mello into fits of laughter.

"Hey, don't laugh at me," he chided, though it did nothing to stop him. That was good. Watching Mello laugh was strange and pleasant, as he imagined that not a lot of people had that privilege. A smirk strayed across his face once he realised his position - a position in which he could harness that privilege.

"Whoa - Matt, stop tickling me! _Matt!_"

Mello fought back hard, but lost in the end. He was just too far gone.

* * *

**It was really fun writing in this universe again, though I've been told by reviewers that a continuation of the AU wasn't needed from where I left it. I doubt I'll be adding any more - I'm content with what I've written now - though I'm glad to have added this, if only for a laugh.**

** I hope you like the extra chapter and I'd like to thank you again if you're one of the people who reviewed, favourited or followed this story - it means such a lot to me. If you're up for it, feedback on this new chapter is also greatly appreciated!**

** That's all from me - the final instalment of my current ongoing fanfiction, Buying Days, will be up at some point soon-ish. I'm not setting a date, because college is busy, but I have started writing it and I can't wait to round it off. I hope you've been having a good New Year!**


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